Colonial Vacation
by Wends
Summary: The boys recieve impromptu orders during a slump in OZ activity... go on vacation! [crapola fic from eons past. Planned TQ,DH. Rated for language, future scenes of sexual innuendo, general junk]
1. Heero 1

A/N: My god, this thing's terribly old. This reflects my writing style as it was when I first watched Gundam Wing, back in the bygone era when it was only available through bootleg VHS tapes subtitled by otakus. So yes, this fic is a product of the mid 90's, when I was still a sap freak and wasn't too focused on that marvelous thing I now entirely rely on – plot. This fic, in my humble opinion, is stupendously craptastic and should die. However I've had others read it and say they wanted me to continue it. Thus, the second chapter was produced. I let it burble and die once more, then I started posting at fanfiction . net, so I decided 'What the heck?' and gritted my teeth, motivating myself to plaster this humiliatingly terrible fic's beginnings up for everyone to guffaw at it.

Yes, this is actually mine, though I don't like to claim it. I'd rather claim my tripe. (holds her aching head)

If I get enough reviews, I might actually finish it. Yes, you all can be afraid. (Want to read something high quality instead? Might I suggest 'Fractured' if you're into X/TB? Or maybe 'Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness' and it's prelude piece, 'Once'? Or even 'Fall of Nobility'! Or give up on me, go to my homepage, and read Ava's 'For the Love of Cats' (posted only there, as she refuses to release it to anyone else) – I love tormenting her with the fact that people still read that thing.)

Disclaimer: I in no way own Gundam Wing (or this fic). Don't sue; I'm simply an E5 in the USN (and this fic was started when I was a college student, not long removed from high school. Ack), therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

_-Heero Yuy-_

"Return to base."

The screen flickered slightly, obscuring the visage of the person displayed across it who peered at me with his goggled eyes and clacked his three fingered robotic hand as his smile widened.

"Ninmu ryuoukai."

Those words escaped my mouth without my realization of thinking them, pouring forth from my lips automatically as they had been conditioned to do over the years I had been under Doctor J's supervision.

It didn't matter. What's another mission?

The only thing was that this particular mission was setting me on edge, creating in me the most odd sensation of a black empty pit developing in the midst of my stomach. Such of course was impossible, but such was what the sensation could best be described as. As that dark fluttering hole – worry? – formed within me, I let my lips fall into the frown they desired to form. There was no viable reason to return to base. A temporary cease-fire had been called. We had nothing to do. Better to leave us upon the Earth awaiting the next move of our enemies and being prepared for such.

Instead, those who were responsible for directing our movements and creating the foundation of our missions in our private war against OZ wanted us to return to base.

Duo was saying something behind me. Ranting and raving, by the tone of his voice. I attempted to tune it out as to ponder the reasons our superiors may have developed for this rather uncalled for maneuver.

I couldn't help but listen after awhile. The baka's voice had a way of always weaseling its way into my head.

"Damn it, this is fucking weird, you know? I mean, come on! Sending us back home. Back home! Shouldn't they just leave us here? What if OZ decides to get off its dead ass and start smashing the old Earth Sphere again? And there we'll be, sitting in space eating ramen and burgers, millions of miles away from our Gundams, sipping Coke instead of being where the action is. We were sent here to destroy the fuckers! So why the hell are we letting a little thing like a fake as hell cease-fire order stand in our way? Go back to base! Duo, if you disobey this order, I'm going to find you, drag you back by your hair and have you flogged before I lock you back into that semblance of an ordinary family life that I created for you! I'm a piss ass with the worst hairdo and the biggest nose on this side of the galaxy! Nyeah!"

Apparently I was not the only one among us who was wondering over these strange orders.

"Indeed," was the only snorted reply that came from the Chinese pilot that was seated at the table behind me.

"This makes no sense at all. It'll put us at a tactical disadvantage," muttered Trowa quietly. I could see his reflection in the darkened monitor screen of my laptop. He was scratching his chin, his eyes downcast as if he were staring at the floor.

"Hn."

"Ah, and the great conversationalist adds his two cents!"

I found myself glowering at Duo, who simply grinned in that manic fashion he always sported.

"Perhaps…."

Turning my eyes to Quatre, I narrowed my gaze. The Arab had been far too quiet, apparently having been delving into his own thoughts on the situation and attempting to figure out whatever rational thought our superiors had in giving us such orders.

"What are your thoughts, Quatre?"

"Two explanations. First, removing us from the Earth removes a tangible target from the sites of both the Earth Sphere Alliance and OZ, thus preventing the formation of any conflict between them. Such also protects us by simply removing us from the situation instead of leaving us to our own devises in the task of hiding ourselves from the public and militant eyes of Earth during this rather odd situation."

I nodded solemnly. Quatre always seemed to be able to come up with a viable explanation to even the most vague of circumstances, orders and events. The other pilots may not have ever been able to find any value in his skills, but I at least could see merit in having him upon our haphazardly constructed 'team.' He was quite a valuable asset.

"Second, they probably want us to relax and enjoy life for awhile to raise moral and improve our fighting spirits."

But he could be just as idiotic and frustrating as Duo at times.

"Improve our fighting spirits?" I mouthed quietly, turning a curious eye to him.

The blond idiot was grinning like mad, nodding happily. His thoughts were most decidedly askew that morning.

"Whatever the reason, we have no choice but to comply," Wufei growled quietly, shaking his head. He had been disappointed by the cease-fire, calling it the 'Path of Cowards' and cursing OZ to whatever Hell whatever God they worshipped created for their type of scum. Apparently, his wishes ran the same course as my own – to obliterate OZ while we're here, regardless of their actions for or against the Earth, the colonies or us. To finish what we'd started.

Our meal that night was held in silence. Such was a rarity when Duo Maxwell was seated at the same table as the rest of us. His typical yammering was stilled by the odd orders though.

I'd always felt that such silence would have decidedly been a comfort to me, giving my ears their longed-for break from his constant chatter and banter. However, with the lack of that which I found annoyance upon a regular basis I was feeling the return of that odd emptiness within the pit of my stomach again.

I simply couldn't shake that odd feeling, no matter how hard I tried. Everything that was happening that evening only succeeded in deepening that bottomless abyss. Trowa frowned as he carried his suitcase downstairs. Wufei decided to forego his usual practice of his katas to pack, muttering about the orders being a direct interference with his mission and such displeasing his 'Nataku.' Quatre sorted through his belongings, vainly attempting to pack lightly, searching for his calling card which he planned to use to contact his servants and inform them of his impending, temporary return to the manor he called home. Duo silently shuffled about, mindlessly ambling around our hideaway instead of purposefully turning to the task of moving out.

Duo's silence was the most disturbing action of all.

My sleep that night was less than peaceful. It was plagued with strange images that left odd sensations within me. I've not experienced the events of dreaming often. I've never remembered what I had dreamed about. The fact that I had even the most slight of recollections of what my dream was that night about brought more darkness to that pit within me.

I could not describe what the weird sensations that ran through my body were. I shivered when I'd awakened, but it was not from cold. My room was always kept at a steady, temperate climate. I was sweating, but not from heat. As described before, the conditions of the atmosphere within my room would not allow that. My heart was pounding for some odd reason. I had not exerted myself recently – there was no reason for such.

This return to base was not a wise decision. I could feel that coursing through my veins. We needed to be here, upon Earth. OZ was up to something. As Duo would say, I was 'feeling it in my bones.'

However, there was no choice but to return to base. I'd already accepted the mission. Quatre had already explained viably why such a mission would be created for us. Our Gundams were in need of slight repair, as well. This would probably be accomplished while we were away.

I failed in my personal mission of finding that elusive darkness called 'sleep' that night.

Standing in the spaceport with my allies the next morning, I squinted my eyes to protect them from the glare of the sun as it reflected off the shining windows of the hanger lobby we were in. I was silently building that feeling called 'envy,' directed towards Duo and his sunglasses as he chatted easily in the morning hours, oblivious to the fact that our shuttle was running late and the sun was shining directly into our eyes through the large glass windows. He was always chipper in the morning, though.

I carefully suppressed a smile as he laughed, shoving the rest of a glazed doughnut into his mouth and swallowing without more than five total chewing bites.

Wufei was silently glowering out of the windows, his eyes as squinted as my own, grumbling under his breath. He was never cheerful in the morning. Of course, as he usually ran missions in the early evening hours, he was never awake at this time. Duo's chattering was annoying him just as much as the sun was.

I could easily relate with him as I chewed mindlessly on the stick of jerky I'd requisitioned for myself to substitute for breakfast while we waited for the shuttle to finish its preparations.

Glancing over, I found myself smirking slightly. Trowa was lounging in one of the lobby's rather uncomfortable chairs next to a snoring Quatre who managed to curl himself somehow into those tiny seats, both feet up off the floor and head upon the armrest. The Arab had been so busy packing the night before that he'd not gotten a wink of sleep. I knew this because my room flanked his and I'd listened to the sounds of him tromping about and cursing as items eluded his searches in a vain attempt to busy my mind with something as sleep escaped me. Trowa was cautiously resting his hand upon the blond boy's shoulder, attempting to not be noticed and to not wake him.

Turning my gaze back towards the runway, I sighed in quiet relief as the shuttle finally opened its doors and the ramp was shoved to its side. We would begin boarding soon. I'd be back on base within a few hours. The others would return to their homes. We'd 'relax' as Quatre put it. I'd finally have enough time to question Doctor J about his true purposes in cooperating with the other mad scientists behind our attacks and strategies and having us return to the colonies for this impromptu 'vacation.'

I was out of jerky.

Peanuts were waiting on the shuttle.

I nodded, before lifting my carry-on duffel bag with a grunt of "Ninmu ryuoukai."

_Blah. It was actually continued by reader request…__  
On to chapter 2, when I post it._


	2. Duo 1

Review replies:

Yurikitsune: Ah, you read this on my site? (happy smile) Thank you! Eh, this story's so old though. I'm afraid of it. (whimpers and backs away in terror) It's so… sappy! It makes me gag. (sniffles pathetically)

Lihanou: Eh heh. (sheepish grin) I'm glad you like it. I'll try my damnedest to continue with this thing to appease you. Hopefully it keeps up to your expectations, as my styling has changed a bit over these last (cringe) we dont' even want to mention the number of years. (cries) I can't believe I'm that old of an otaku! Sheesh.

Disclaimer: I in no way own Gundam Wing. Don't sue; I'm simply an E5 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

_-Duo Maxwell-_

Well, the shuttles arrived a total of two hours late.

A stressful wait it was, standing in that lobby with a very overly grumpy Wufei, an unconventionally antisocial Heero, a slumbering Quatre and a stoic and silent Trowa. Such fine company I got myself involved with. Three pilots who wouldn't know how to start a conversation with any member of the human race if their lives depended on it, and one normal guy who at the time was too busy snoring away in that funky lotus position he was sleeping in to bother giving me someone to unleash my overstocked energy at. And while I'm certain those three delightful comrades of mine found my presence just as annoying as I found theirs, I take no pity on them. If they'd wanted me to quiet myself, they should have simply spoken themselves. It's not that I'm incapable of listening. I simply need noise. Silence is too fucking unnerving.

Anyway, the shuttles finally arrived, rolling slowly to the gates and glistening in the bright morning sunlight as perfect as anyone could imagine them being. Only a half an hour longer wait and we were shuffling onboard, our belongings in duffel bags slung over our shoulders and our minds on the situation that was driving us away from the earth we'd not so long ago been forced into calling our temporary home and battleground.

Cease-fire, my ass. We all knew that OZ was up to something. We all felt it. No matter how much any of these other losers I have to recognize as Gundam pilots look at me oddly for mentioning it, I know that they feel the same way as I. Maybe they just don't feel the need to express their concerns as I do.

It wasn't anything to do with the timing, or the relative position of either organization. It was simply that there was no viable reason for a cease-fire to be called. None whatsoever. Just like the leaders of both parties woke up that morning and said, "Golly gee wilickers, I think I just don't want us to fight for awhile," and called up their enemies to say, "Let's not shoot at each other." Or maybe they figured out that them being at one another's' throats was what we Gundam pilots were using to cover our own tracks and assist us in our missions. The chaos caused by becoming the proverbial third wheel was simply fabulous for its contributions to the survivability factor of our little fiasco tromps those who sent us our information delighted in sending us on.

Nah, they didn't figure nothin' out. Just dumb luck, I'd like to think. I personally felt that sticking with the "Golly gee wilickers" explanation was the best for the moment, all things considered.

Or perhaps they'd predicted that we'd leave the Earth and were simply waiting for the right moment when no one was paying attention to anything to strike at one another once more.

Or maybe they just wanted to fuck with our heads.

Fucking hell, it just didn't make any damned sense!

Better just to drive the mind off of such matters and focus instead on things at hand.

Like the fact that Perfect Soldier Boy's stolen yet another bag of peanuts from my tray.

Bastard!

Glancing around the shuttle, giving him the temporary satisfaction of having successfully scavenged more salted treats away from me, I sighed. The vessel was quiet and the trip was peaceful. Smooth skies lead to a debris-lacking path to the L-1 colony cluster, where we'd be landing at the Cluster A-18372 Spaceport and from there going our separate ways.

I'd have to be meeting up with Simon and Patty again. And Cindy was most likely going to be with them.

Simon and Patty were my 'Dad' and 'Mom,' the relationship being nothing but a collection of superficial titles assigned to random strangers designed to somehow supplement my supposedly empty life and grant me some foundation of stability for the years I'd face after these conflicts I faced now had since subsided. Simon – well, Dad – was a computer programmer. From what I understood, he'd been a regular with the Sweeper Corps, and had been the original designer behind the complex computer systems that ran the Peacemillion craft that the ol' Prof had stashed away. He was a cool enough guy. Nice enough, anyway, to give a stowaway like me a chance to redeem myself for the little bout of havoc I raised with the ship and its crew when I made my way into its bowels quite uninvited. And his wife, the woman I found myself regularly calling Mom for lack of any other way to show respect, was kind almost to a fault.

Cindy, wenchy excuse for a pseudo sister, gets no special recognition.

I'd take Heero over her any day.

But they'd be waiting for me at the port. Waiting with smiles and a camera and gooby kisses and cries of, 'Welcome home, Duo!'

For some reason, part of me simply couldn't wait for that, just as much as the rest of me loathed and dreaded returning to the lie that Professor G had created in a dire attempt to retain what little sanity remained in what scraps of my soul could be found.

Then I found myself wondering – what was everyone else going back to?

My eyes found their way first to Wufei. He was sitting silently and completely upright, buckled into his seat and reading a thick black-bound tome, his eyes squinted as he poured intently over the text scribbled on the book's thin pages. Did he have family waiting for him to bustle over him and shove him into a car to be careened off to his home with? Did he have a home waiting for him to return? For some reason, my heart found itself a bit more heavy and sad. I don't think I ever believed for a moment that he really had anyone or anything to return to.

Why sad over Wufei? Simple. He's a good friend, no matter how callous and cold he may seem to be. The guy simply has different ways of expressing himself; if he protects your ass once in your lousy life, it means he's simply ecstatic to have you as a fellow member of the human race and that you're more than worthy to be a presence in his ever so holy universe. Heh. I know that was a bit sarcastic, but hey! Pretty damned straight.

He'd saved me before. He'd shown me that he recognized me at least as a worthy comrade in all things Gundam, if not a friend. Thus I regarded him as a friend in return.

And the thought of one of my friends not having anything to return to disturbed me.

My eyes drifted to Trowa, who was all but plastered to the window of the shuttle, staring blankly out into space. Now that's a guy to ponder over. Quatre's said that he's got a girl in a circus to return to. And my brain says, "How the hell can a guy like that score someone's affection?" Not that he's unfriendly or anything, but he has the personality of a blade of grass. Now I've met some pretty personable grass stalks, mind you. And Trowa's right up there with the most expressive and friendly ones I've ever known.

I can't bring myself to really worry about him. He'll be scampering merrily back to his circus as merrily as Trowa the Mime can scamper in his shuffling, lackadaisical I-don't-care way. Back to this 'Catherine' chick. Must be sweet.

Quatre, the sleeping wonder strapped in his laid-back chair… hell, we all know where he's going. Quatre Raberba Winner, prince-boy of L-4, going back home to his world of comfort and servants waiting on him hand and foot.

Wonder if he'd get bored enough to invite me over? Heh heh.

And Heero….

Heero….

Heero.

He was staring at me as I stared at him, one eyebrow quirked over one dark Prussian blue eye. "What?" his voice asked, his tone dull and lifeless.

Shaking my head, I sighed quietly. "Just wonderin' where you're going after we land, is all."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Back to base."

"Not back home?" I questioned, hiking one brow above the other.

And I could only stare as Heero's lips turned with the slightest hint of a frown at their edges, his brow furrowing in that ever so familiar look of consternation and disgruntled disregard for the world in general, his eyes narrowed just a pinch. "I have no home."

"No home…?" I quietly whispered. My concern crept into my voice against my will.

"It doesn't matter."

My eyes narrowed slightly at his toneless statement.

Oh, but it does matter, Heero Yuy.

It matters.

_might be continued against any and all better judgment..._


End file.
